


Kicking Birds

by Alathe



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, No Beta - We die like Witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alathe/pseuds/Alathe
Summary: Jaskier learns a little self-defense.  Geralt likes it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 201





	Kicking Birds

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on my lovely FaceBook group. Y'all know who you are, and I love ya.

After about the hundredth (Tenth? Thirtieth? Who knew.) time the bard found himself in danger as he followed Geralt along the Path, he asked the witcher to teach him to defend himself. You know, in case he stayed somewhere while Geralt was hunting and something happened.

Geralt wasn't really surprised when Jaskier asked for training, though he was kind of surprised it took so long. He just couldn't understand the way the younger man's mind worked.

They made camp early, and Geralt took Jaskier's request for training seriously. He soon discovered he had to start by breaking bad habits. Teaching Jaskier not to tuck his thumb into his fist while trying to punch. The bard couldn't seem to get the hang of using his first two knuckles to make a strike, he rolled his hand much too far to the side; it was vexing. And the first time he got the lithe musician to hit him, he nearly laughed. 

"I've had children hit me harder than that, Jaskier, come on!"

The bard's face went through a short gamut of emotions, anger, insult, annoyance, before settling on sadness.

"Why are children hitting, you Geralt? That's horrible."

He couldn't resist those sad eyes. Training would have to be done for the day. He pulled the sniffling bard to his chest, his last thoughts on the matter of training to wonder if Jaskier would ever be able to protect himself. The bard caught his lips in a kiss, and Geralt knew he was doomed.

The sex was amazing, as always. Jaskier was kind and gentle with him this time, as if trying to erase sad memories. But they hadn't had dinner yet, and as they lay recovering, Jaskier's stomach grumbled. It didn't take long before they had a rabbit over the fire, and the witcher's mind had returned to the horrendous way Jaskier tried to punch.

"Maybe we shouldn't start with punching. Have you ever used a sword?"

"There was some training, but I never really liked it. Besides, all we have are your swords, and I don't even think I could lift them." He said as he finished his meal.

"And really, this is the only sword I'm interested in." He said suggestively as he climbed into Geralt's lap, palming him.

"Sure, if someone attacks you, you can fuck them to death." Chuckled Geralt.

"I'll show you "to death" dear Witcher." Said Jaskier as he wrapped his long legs around Geralt and ground down. The thought that there was something here Geralt should remember was soon wiped away as Jaskier dragged him into yet another sexual encounter.

~~~

"You've got some strong legs, Jaskier. " Geralt said, thinking about the tight grip from last night. "Maybe we should work on kicks." Geralt took the time to teach him how to kick to get the best effect, and cause himself the least damage. This is easier than teaching him how to punch, he has balance from dancing while he sings, and has no problem lifting his foot high enough to catch someone in the chest with his heel. Satisfied that he can kick properly, Geralt stands in front of the bard.

"Alright, now let's see how much power you can get behind that motion." He pats his armor. "Go ahead, kick me."

Jaskier looks a bit nervous but Geralt is so big and strong, he's not really concerned for the witcher's safety. A little nervous he might hurt himself on that solid body, though. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, and kicks Geralt, the way he's been shown, striking with his heel. To his great shock, Geralt stumbles back several steps before landing on his ass in the dirt. 

The witcher sucks in a breath and grunts. Those ribs are definitely bruised. He draws another breath, hm, that one might be broken. Who knew a songbird could kick like a mule? And why were his pants suddenly so tight? 

"Geralt! Are you ok? I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" The witcher allowed the bard to help him up, with another grunt. He didn't think an unarmed human could do that to him. Of course, he'd never stood still and let anyone kick him before.

"Yeah, do that if you get attacked. You'd definitely break ribs. How the hell are your legs so strong anyway?"

"I follow  _ you _ everywhere, dummy."

"You get that just from walking everywhere?"

Jaskier stepped into Geralt's space with a wicked grin, and leaving one leg on the ground, slung the other on top of the witcher's firm ass. Geralt grunted again as the movement jostled his ribs.

"Maybe not  _ just _ walking."

~~~

Geralt knew they had his bard, and now he knew where their camp was. He counted 6 bandits, not knowing how many more were in the tents. But he wasn't just going to leave his delicate bard in their cruel hands. 

Jaskier was tied, standing up, against a large tree nearly in the middle of the camp. So, no way to untie him and escape unnoticed, then. If Geralt had been less schooled in keeping his approach silent, he would've sighed. Alright then, time to save his bard. Again.

Drawing his steel sword, he walked into the camp. Two of the bandits turned to him right away, the others following suit quickly. The witcher pointed at Jaskier with his left hand.

"I don't suppose you'd release him to me and be on your way?"

"Why would we do that, stranger?" The speaker was short, not like a dwarf, really, just shorter than average. He carried a large, curved blade in his hand. Geralt cocked an eyebrow.

"So you can live."

"Nah, he's pretty. I think we'll keep him." The short one swung his wicked blade at the witcher, screaming when it landed on the ground, his hand and forearm still attached. It quickly became chaos as the bandits attacked, and Geralt's sword kept swinging. Another stumbled from a nearby tent, holding his chest, a quick assessment of the situation and he ran away. One had obviously recently had his nose broken, the bruises around his eyes were still darkening. He tried to fight anyway, despite being mostly unable to see. Geralt took off his head. He found himself facing away from Jaskier, fending off a surprisingly quick brigand, hearing choking, gagging noises behind him. Shit, the bard was in trouble, and he had to concentrate on the sword in front of him. Seeing another come in from the side, he gave a blast of Aard, sliced the incoming bandit, and leapt through the air. He landed straddling the bandit he'd knocked over with the sign, and buried his sword in the man's chest. After that death-gasp was finished, he only heard one person breathing behind him. He spun on his heel, and found himself shocked into inaction for a second.

Jaskier had both legs lifted from the ground, his body supported entirely by the mass of ropes securing him to the tree. Locked in his powerful legs was the last bandit, dead; strangled, or possibly a broken neck. Either way, it certainly had Geralt's attention; his pants were tight again.

"Jaskier." The bard's eyes snapped open and he focused on the white-haired witcher. "They're all dead. It's ok now." The brunette merely blinked. "You should drop the body, danger-legs."

"Body?" That seemed to get his attention. "Oh. Ugh." Jaskier released his legs with enough force that the dead man didn't just slump from him, but spiraled out away from the bard. Which fortunately left enough room for him to put both feet on the ground. Words were spilling from the bard's mouth even before Geralt cut the ropes and caught Jaskier, whose exhausted legs momentarily failed to do so.

"I kicked, Geralt, just like you told me. I think I injured a couple of them. And I never saw the blonde again, so I don't know what happened. But there were just way too many of them. I couldn't defend myself, again. I'm so sorry I made you rescue me again, Geralt." Jaskier babbled. The witcher wasn't surprised, the energetic musician always babbled when he was nervous. Then there was a pause.

"Danger-legs?" The bard snickered, looking up at Geralt. Geralt knew he had that goofy smile on his face again.

"Would it be wrong of me to want to fuck you right now?" That dopey smile tipped a bit more to the side. Jaskier knew that was as close as the White Wolf came to blushing. He grabbed the witcher's shirt and pulled himself up to kiss the gorgeous man holding him.

"You like putting yourself in the middle of danger, Witcher?" He teased. He was answered with a searing kiss, and large fingers fumbling at the lacing of his pants.


End file.
